On trips of epic proportion - Day 1: Part 2

Scene 3: How to Escape a Herd of Stampeding Elephants.

Remember how we told you that any conversation between Al and anyone, really, went something like this:

General Sri Lankan population: “Hello, where from?”

Alisa: “Hello! I’m from America.”

General Sri Lankan population: “Ah! America! Nice country. Have you seen elephant?”

Well yes, our adventures in Mineriya National Park have ensured, without any room for doubt or query, that Al will never have to answer “no” to that question ever again.

We arrived at the park, the roof off our jeep, our adventurous spirits high, our cameras a’ready and a bag of milky ways in hand…what elephant safari is truly complete without a bag of milky ways, really?

And so our adventure began, with laughs and chit-chat and a peacock or two. It wasn’t until we left the shaggy overhang of the jungle path that we encountered our first herd of elephants grazing in the distance. We all got pretty excited and there were jovial shouts and a general ho-hum about our success, and on we trollied.

And then we met another herd of elephants, this time grazing roughly three feet from our front tires. This would have been absolutely prime, had there not been five other jeeps pushing the elephants back, agitating a protective, new, and very large mother, and consequently making the whole heard rather ruffled.

After a few advances from the mama-phant, we decided, wisely, to move before any real trouble started. We picked our way through the masses and safely sauntered off into the bush to enjoy birds and foxes and another tusker or two…

It was when we realized it was after six, the sun was setting and the park was closed that we realized we should probably not be there any more…what, leave? really? A jungle, festooned with wild and irate animals?

We made it all the way back to where our angry herd was, just to find that they were still very much there and still very much in the same frame of mind. Also they had more or less decided to spread out their vast numbers over the entire terrain, which included our road. The elephants scared me, I won’t lie. Something about 40 elephants being vexed enough to charge your’ relatively little vehicle, with the full intent of reducing it and you to the rough dimensions of a large stamp, really does things for the heart rate.

They were not to be fooled by the attempt at distracting them, so when our driver decided that a U-turn and a head long plough through the brooding mass was a good idea, it really didn’t take long for the entire drove to be upon us, trumpeting and running faster than I ever believed elephants could go. Our driver was a star, but I, a shaky, pale-faced mess, was very close to just laying myself down on the seat and letting cardiac arrest take over. In good faith, lets just say the U-turn was arguably necessary (though after the whole show was said and done, the only thing our friend Bala could manage was “now that was uncalled for”) - what really did nearly send us under the drivers seat praying for sweet mercy and holding our breaths for the end to come, was the 2 seconds during which the jeep stopped:

“just in case the bump ruins the shocks.”

…worn shocks and semi-annoyed dad on one hand…being killed by a stampede of elephants on the other. Decisions, decisions. I did not know I was capable of dropping so fast and am now rethinking my education and considering a future with the fire department. “Drop and roll” never saw a finer candidate.

Probably one of the finer elephant stories in our collective memories. For totes.

After a swift motor to the park gate into a glorious sunset, a few moments stalling due to the fact that we were locked in and a speedy trip home, our fruit juices and BBQd kebabs were oh-so welcome. And then it was bed time.

So much love,

Alisa and Steph

On trips of epic proportion - Day 1: Part 1.

We’re back.

Full of adventures, near-death experiences, early mornings and a shade or two darker to boot. All in all we’d say, despite the grotesquely early mornings, the trip was a success.

Scene 1: A Rock-Solid Morning.

Wednesday morning dawned bright and early as we packed all of our things into the jeep at roughly 5:45 am—we were surprisingly ready and on time. Then we began our trek to Sigiriya, which took about two hours, or approximately one c.d of house music, an introduction to Glee, and an attempt to expose our car-mates to country music. The ride also included a stop for petrol and a much needed bathroom break after our early morning coffees.

The bathroom was an adventure all to itself. I got to try my hand at a squatting toilet; with Steph issuing informative instructions, between peals of laughter, outside the door, “Now put your feet on the blocks, squat down, and just go”. I finally accomplished the task and now I can cross it off my bucket list, no pun intended.

Chirpy hikers

We arrived at the rock and somehow, before even entering, acquired man who insisted on being our guide. Really though, we have no idea what his credentials were. Some of his facts don’t exactly match those featured on Wikipedia so who knows. He told all about the history of the rock—stopping to show us all sorts of interesting things. We learned all about how the freshwater pumps were powered (windmills), how many concubines the king had (500), how the king was entertained (man-made swimming pools and large dancing halls), how many steps it takes to reach the top (1,200), and why only one of the fresco women had a shirt (to cover a mistake made by the artist)—see I was listening and paying attention. I also learned there was a 99% chance that the answer to any question we asked was: man-powered water pump or 500 concubines.

I was a little bit worried that the heat of the hike might be a bit much for me, Sigiriya is much more humid than Kandy, but it wasn’t too bad. It could be because we arrived so early on a rare overcast morning or because I’m getting used to the humidity—I’m praying for the latter.

Although the view at the top of the rock is spectacular, my favorite part of the climb was the frescos. Seeing artwork that old reminded me of AP Art History and Mr. Nickel. The excessive amount of pictures I took would make him proud. The intricacy and history behind each painting was amazing.

After admiring the view from the top and catering to the guide who would instruct us when and where to take pictures, “Excuse me, please. Come here. You take picture now. Come here now. Take picture now.”, he had a very specific plan of what was tourist picture worthy, we tromped back down the steps, battling strong gusts of wind, hopped into the jeep and headed off for the next adventure.

Other visitors

The top

Scene 2: Lake Placid II – The Return of the Gators.

Sweaty, tired and hungry, we piled into the jeep after our jaunt up that 700 foot relic to be revived by AC and packs of milo…for those of you who have never had milo before, it is the chocolate milk that every kid grows up on, the sweeter, thicker, calorie-packed Nesquik of the Asian world, if you will. It is also divine. And something Chris Kyle would drink every day. That got us through till lunch…which naturally was prefaced by a quick dip in the lake. The lake apparently serves as a watering hole for wild elephants, a laundry service for the nearby village and a swimming spot for tuckered kids.

Tuckered kids

Elephant's feet, Al's feet.

Paddling around was delicious, and there really is something satisfactory about mud between your toes. All was well until Bala said “Girls, make a lot of splashes and stay close to the shallows.”

Do tell, dear Bala, why ever would we do that?

As it turns out, he and a hoard of boys were goofing off in the middle of the lake and it was only after they had ignored the sage advise of the villagers, goofed off a little more and had come back in search of elephants later that day, that they discovered a tribe of lounging crocodiles. Crocodiles. Enough splashes were consequently made to simulate the tsunami.

After ensuring that every crocodile and/or elephant in the estimated two mile radius had run for cover, we were endowed with the mother of all picnic lunches. Curry, accompanied robust appetites and corking good company, never tasted so good.

Bala is not a believer in downtime and so it was but a ten minute trek through the jungle before we found ourselves in the jeep again, speeding off to our next adventure: Elephants en mass.

Stay tuned.

Much, much love,

Alisa and Steph

On neon.

Steph and I are currently planning on tucking ourselves in early tonight, for those of you familiar with our sleep patterns I’m sure this must come as quite a shock. But, do not fret, it is a decision based purely on necessity—one born from a busy day shopping in Kandy and a scheduled departure time of 5:45 a.m. for what Steph adeptly described as a “well, you know, it’s a place” in the morn, rather than a change of character.

Tomorrow we are off to explore Sigiriya and Trinco with Steph’s friends. I think this trip will be a welcome break from our busy day shopping and, hopefully, we’ll come back a shade or two darker.

Today was spent experiencing downtown Kandy. For lunch we dined at KFC, which featured a slightly different menu than its counterparts in the states and also boasted a very helpful poster detailing the history of KFC. Apparently, KFC was founded at “a very happy time in the 1930s”, who knew?

Steph and I decided to be serious and fully committed the entire shopping day to our quest for neon clothing. We spent the better part of the day picking through shops looking for clothes that qualified as bright enough. This was a more difficult task than expected. We were interrupted frequently by overeager salesmen who would follow us through the store, remove clothing from hangers, and select matching belts for dresses we had only glanced at. But, in the end, despite these hindrances, I think we found some pretty stunning articles.

Combined they create wonderfully high-fashion outfits. Solely based on the attractiveness of these outfits alone I think we may have to begin our own fashion blog as well. Today’s OOTD could be titled something along the lines of “Fluorescent Females”. Don’t worry; we’ll refrain from wearing it all at once so we won’t outshine those around us.

Packing is finished and bed is calling.

Much Love, Alisa and Steph

Peachy

Well dear reader, we are sufficiently recovered from our rugby shenanigans on Saturday. Truly, there really is not a whole lot that sufficient sleep and a good cup of coffee won’t put to rights. Sunday morning dawned early…8.30 to be exact. Three and a half hours of sleep combined with bodies that wished they were over jet lag but were secretly not, do not cause a whole lot of desire for action, so we settled for a good church service and napping. Oh yes, and traipsing through the dark night, battling off dogs and potholes for a late night dip. Having lounged about the house for the greater part of the day, Al and I figured a good brisk walk up to the pool would be a refreshing little adventure and indeed it was – until we met the mongrels at any rate. Then it was heart palpitations, frantic holding of hands, deep breaths and “just….keep…walking” through clenched teeth. We made it however and the ensuing swim was glorious. We put ourselves to bed by 9 that evening and what a wise life decision that was. We were new girls this morning.

While Al napped on, I decided to re-introduce my running legs to that vague and distant past time. Somehow I forgot to think about a. the humidity, b. the fact that not only cars occupy the street but also cows, ox carts, trishaws, more dogs, more cows and occasional drove of people and c. the monsoon. All three entities struck in one crippling blow this morning and I returned a panting, sopping, sweaty mass, the approximate shade of the setting sun. My strawberries and cream this afternoon seemed very well deserved.

Strawberries and cream were just one of the many strawberries and ________ (fill in blank with whatever you so desire) that were options at the new little restaurant (?) we discovered this afternoon. A restaurant devoted solely to strawberries. No joke. From strawberry picture frames to strawberry pancakes to strawberry table clothes to a larger-than-life wall hanging on the history of the strawberry, it was all there.

Four of us girls sat down and partook in all that was strawberry and it was just…peachy.

In other news, Al had an adventure on the scooter today. Needing to change money, she was introduced not only to the joys of Sri Lankan banks and Sri Lankan rupees, but to the joys of bumping along on the back of a bajaj scooter – its sturdiness equal to none.

We will stop now, on account of being on the brink of starvation…starvation tends to cramp my writing style some. Arabic food, for the win.

On rugby.

Alisa:

Since arriving in the beautiful land of Sri Lanka I have had a host of cultural experiences. Ranging from being asked by everyone, “Visiting from America? Have you seen an elephant?” Apparently they’re really exciting. I’ve given up on telling people that I’ve seen and even ridden elephants in the states, thanks to the circus and Winston Wildlife Safari. My new tactic is one that I hope might earn me a free elephant ride. It goes something like this, “Elephants, wait they really exist? I’ve never seen one before. I didn’t know they were real.” I’m going to test it out on the next person who asks; maybe I can get a baby elephant out of the performance. Steph says it’s pretty convincing.

Steph:

It is pretty convincing. I'm thinking about getting her to get two of them, so I can take one home also. Judging by the sheer amount of clothing that I managed to cart over, there is no doubt in my mind that my suit case is big enough.

Alisa:

Something else I’ve experienced unique to the island is it’s humidity. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest I have not had the joy of making humidity’s acquaintance until now. I can’t say I’m sad it’s taken so long for us to meet. But, people tell me I’ll get used to it. I hope they’re right.

Escaping the heat - what a rough life.

Another thing I’ve got to participate in, that literally screams culture, was the much-anticipated Bradby match. For those of you who don’t know Bradby is a rugby game between two of the top boys’ schools in Kandy and Colombo, Trinity and Royals respectively.

The game was absolutely crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it. The fans were out of control. There were bands, flags, school songs, face paint, matching shirts, and team spirit galore. Also, to distract the other team, fans would sporadically set off firecrackers to decrease the other team’s chance of scoring. Royals won which, unfortunately, was not the team we were rooting for. But we did go out and celebrated the match Lankan style at Bradby Ball afterwards, which lessened the sting of defeat significantly. Maybe I’ll let Steph tell you all about it.

Steph:

Hmmmmm...yes, Bradby Ball. Losing is no fun but as they say "misery loves company"...in this case, "company" included about twenty of us who met up to dance the night away, well into the wee hours of the morn. Le Garage was hopping, the music pounding and the dance floor popping. 3.00 am rolled round and it was time to call it good. After some cajoling, we got Al a first taste of driving down the potholed, rutted, bedraggled mountain roads of Kandy and she did incredibly well - despite having to drive on the left side and never having driven outside of the states in her life. Not a single dog was hit, we got the car home intact and Alisa became a star pretty instantaneously.

Alisa:

All in all, after roughly four days in the country, I feel like I’ve been ceremoniously immersed in Sri Lankan culture. I may come back with an accent just like Steph’s.

So much love,

Alisa and Steph

On arabic sugar and croissants. Also Bailey's.

Dear readers, we are back. After saying good-bye to kit and kin in the U.S. of A, adventures in the Middle East and 40 hours of tripping door to door, we are indeed back.

The kit and kin. And nine pieces of luggage.

The geckos, the mosquito nets and the palm trees have not changed a fraction, but there are some minor alterations to life as I once knew it.

Firstly we have a new gate. Now our gate keeps everything from stray trishaws to our knave of a neighbor at bay, so our gate is, well, significant…and the first thing I noticed coming home was that the latticed, wrought-iron gate that I had swung on as a child was gone, sent to a happier place where all good gates go, and replaced by a stately entity with a brand new attachment of a red mail box. The old mailbox was blown to smithereens, you see, when Kristian thought it would be entertaining to stick half a dozen fireworks in it to see what would happen. We never did find the top half.

Secondly, apparently we have an avocado tree. My mother was very excited about this discovery and consequently we will be having avocadoes in some shape or form probably every single day.

Thirdly, and most favorite, joining me this time is a certain Ms. Alisa Rogers-Taylor. Having never stepped foot out the country, she upped and decided flying half way across the globe with me to teach impoverished kids and soak in the delights of the motherland would be just the way to kick off her traveling career. It’s going to be a wonderfully insane couple of months with my roomie, bestie and second mom by my side.

Virgin passports

Needless to say, out journey across the pond was eventful. We began by nearly missing our flight to San Francisco, stopping but briefly on our mad dash to our gate to issue hugs out to the terminal security guards (it was more me not realizing I didn’t beep and consequently standing, arms wide, looking expectantly at the guard, who in turn looked mildly nonplussed. “What, you waitin for a hug or something?” eeeeeh. “Sure?”). We boarded our 16 hour flight with a sturdy outlook. We would make it.

Busting out the crayons, the coloring books, the books, the computers, the Sudoku and the reeses peanut butter cups did present us with some amount of encouragement and things were going well…until of course we were tricked out of our seats by a large Indian man whose primary mode of communication was enthusiastic hand gestures roughly two inches from the face. This was how he communicated that he wanted our seats, that he didn’t like his food and that the movie he was watching was great. Well, the series of short, out-of-the-silence barks of laughter also proved this latter point to be the case. Eight movies later (we highly recommend Valentines Day), a couple of good stiff drinks (nothing like free alcohol to liven up things) and a glance at the North Pole, we arrived in Dubai, alive and well.

Dubai was seven and a half hours of coffee and moseying through duty free and marveling at the indoor rainforests. It was here that we learned from a very excited and helpful Arab man that USA got to the next round of the world cup!

"Sugar" in arabic

Just educating ourselves on the current Middle Eastern trends

It was in high spirits that we shipped ourselves off on the last leg of our passage (we think we left our Indian friend in the Middle East). A couple of croissants and Twilight viewings later, we landed and alighted our flying tub with gusto you wouldn’t believe. We were glad nothing happened to the plane because being seated in front of the exit meant that in case of emergency, it would have been our job to get the doors open for safe evacuation.

“Al, which way does the door handle turn?”

“How should I know, I’ve never opened a freakin plane door…”

“Lets just try…this…way…shoot, it just tightened I think…loosy goosy, righty tighty…no wait that was lefty loosy…”

“Here, just give it to me…”

Yes. Epic fail.

The plane did not crash, thank goodness, and we arrived in due time in the metropolis of Colombo.

And now we are home. There is nothing like sleep, food and a rousing game of Settlers to put one back on one's feet. Let the games begin.

With love,

Alisa and Steph.